


Caring, Money, and Other Valuables

by d_aia



Series: Similar, but Not the Same [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool (2016), Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Inspired by Now You See Me, M/M, Not Steve Friendly, POV Original Female Character, POV Outsider, POV Soph, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Man meets Wade's restitution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring, Money, and Other Valuables

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the movie (and characters, locations, personal histories etc as are shown in it).This is the work of fanfiction.
> 
> A/N: This is a stand alone. Also, this fic is not especially Steve-friendly. Or at all, really. But that's not what it is about. It's about Wade's frenemies (beside those we saw in the movie), and the consequences of CACW.

 Soph watched the two figures making their way to her office on a laptop perched on the coffee table. A breeze made her lift her head, frowning. She touched one of the daggers that were strapped to her thigh.

“Why 'the Man?’” a man—Stark—asked, almost in the room.

Soph startled, then rolled her eyes, and closed the laptop. She knew very well that technology against Stark had a limited use. Soph leaned back on her couch as the two men entered, waving her hand to invite them in. Stark started for the giant mirror in the room, a mistake that everybody made, but stopped before something truly hilarious could happen. He turned around with an awed expression, and saw her behind him, to the right of the door they just used.

“Angles,” Stark said, mystified.

“The love child of Pythagoras and Euclid,” Wade quipped.

“Good afternoon, Stark,” Soph said neutrally. “Hate to see you too, Wade.”

“The Man never forgets, man,” Wade said, and went to lean against the wall where he stood, just inside in the door.

It had best vantage point in the room, if not the safest for the person using it due to its proximity to the door. Wade was being a good bodyguard. The rumors were true then. Which begged the question what _other_ rumors were accurate? Soph would have to wait and see. At least Wade had the forethought—or was it experience with her tricks?—to start inspecting the wall.

If Soph was lucky, he'd hit the right panel and get burned to a crisp.

“Tony. Pleasure to meet you. Now, why ‘the Man?’” Stark asked with a whine.

“Sit down first,” Soph offered, nodding to the couch opposite her. “Or would you like two armchairs?”

Before Stark could answer, Wade shouted, hitting the deck, barely clearing the torrent of fire. Stark whirled around, eyes wide, arm extended. Soph sighed.

“What the shit?” Wade yelled.

“You'd heal,” Soph dismissed.

“It still hurts,” Wade accused.

“So does a bullet to the shoulder.”

Wade huffed, rose halfway up, and sat crossed legged on the floor.

“You shot her?” Stark asked Wade, with a small smile. She got the feeling it was usually reserved for idiots. Stark was too good to ask outright, but he was obviously reconsidering coming here, or, at least, reevaluating his level of safety.

Wade scoffed. “You didn’t  say ‘who do you know and get along best with?’, but ‘who do you know and is the best?’. There she is, the best.” He took out a katana, ruing the certainty of his words. “She’s not going to try to off _you_. You’re the one with the money.”

Stark blinked slowly, facing Soph with a large, if somewhat plastic, smile. “I want to say armchairs, just to see how you'd do it.”

Soph smirked, bringing her right hand to her ear, successfully capturing Stark’s eyes, while she discreetly pressed another panel next her foot. There was a barely audible buzzing sound, which successfully distracted Stark, and then silently the floor under the couch flipped into the floor with the furniture attached, being replaced by two armchairs. It was a simple mechanism, the same principle as flipping a coin. The execution, namely the weight of the materials, was what posed a problem.

Wade, who knew better than to look anywhere else when Soph was performing a trick, shook his head.

“You snooze, you lose,” Wade said philosophically.

Stark was delighted. “How did you finda noise subtle enough that it didn’t raise any alarms, but it still managed to distract me?”

“Trial and error, mostly” Soph said non-committedly. “Couch or armchair?”

“Armchair is fine, thank you,” Stark said.

Soph watched him take a seat, and said, “You asked.”

Stark titled his head in question.

“That’s why I'm called ‘the Man.’ Some people are embarrassed by saying it, some are angered, some think it’s funny, or some think I have an ego issue… infinite reactions. You asked. It tells a lot about a person.”

“Plus it catches people off guard,” Stark pointed out. “I’m a fan.”

Soph nodded.

“But not too much of one,” Wade mock-warned. “I’d _hate_ for your cupcake to smite the Man.”

“Isn't smiting his brother’s thing?” Soph asked wryly.

Stark twitched, surprised—another rumor confirmed.

“Yes!” Wade rocked gleefully, as he shouted. “Mint choco cupcake is the one with the _real_ magic.”

“It would be a lot more impressive if the government wouldn’t  track that shit,” Soph said.

Wade shrugged. “The dangers of being the real deal.”

“That is the reason we came to you about,” Stark said.

Soph frowned. “You want me to get you the devices the governments have developed for tracking and/or suppressing magic, done. You want me to get you the blueprints, it'll cost, but done.” She didn’t think he'd need them, but maybe he was interested in the competition? Still didn’t make much sense. “You want me to stop the governments from using them, that’s impossible.”

She looked at Wade, and sighed, annoyed. It wasn’t ever going to be forgiven, and Wade couldn’t be made to suffer equally because he healed too fast now. Besides, how equal _that_ would be was debatable: the context wasn’t the same. As far as penitence went, however, Wade was financially making up for it. It was all she was going to get, and Soph was too practical to refuse money. And Wade didn’t maim her, which was always a plus with him. Soph, herself, wouldn’t show that kind of restraint with everybody, that was certain. Wade and her, they had an understanding.

“But I'm not the best at acquiring things. Something that Wade would know.” Soph waved Wade off the floor. “What do you want?”

“To come up, build, and sustain a way of playing ‘find the lady’ with people,” Stark said gravely, despite the absolute bullshit he was sprouting. “People with abilities.” Complete, and utter bullshit.

Soph's eyebrows rose. She leaned back on the black leather of the couch. It could be done. Fortunately, both her native countries, home of a large network of contacts, had pretty lax policies—she was a Canadian of Irish descent, who had come to the US some years ago—and could be used as placement countries. At least until she developed more links. Soph studied Stark. Actually, if she would do this, and she would, she should call him Tony. Co-conspirators should get called by their first names.

“It’s going to cost,” Soph said.

“Of course.” Tony didn’t bat an eyelash. “Oh, and in the eventuality of the correct political climate, you're going to have to go to prison.”

Soph’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re going to give the final okay,” Tony hurried to add.

“I better,” Soph warned. “Make no mistake, this is going to cost you a _lot._ Almost everyone else, and I'm including small countries in this category, couldn’t afford it.”

But Tony could, since every country wanted his reactors, was a leader in prosthetic industry, a branch of industry that was on the rise due to recent disquiet, was the target of the hopes and dreams of every citizen out there waiting to be cut in half by a supervillain, was the figurehead for stability, and was the UN Defense Manufacturer, he was adamant on not making weapons. Just the amount of money Tony got from Iron Man bobbleheads was obscene. That was the only thing the media could publish concerning his finances without being sourceless, but everybody agreed he passed filthy rich a while back.

“I think we can work something out,” Tony murmured studying Soph.

Soph calmly reached into a hidden drawer in the coffee table. She got out a deck of cards, passed her right index finger over the activation gel, something that reacted with the paint on the cards, and shut the drawer. She shuffled the cards, taking care to touch both the Joker and the Queen of Hearts with her gel-covered finger. Making sure the Queen was in the right place, she showed the cards to Tony.

“Pick a card, any card.” Soph maintained a blank face. “Look at it, but don’t let me see.”

After Tony reached over, and took the Queen, going with the theme or simply playing along, and she shuffled again, adding a little effect to be sure she had Tony's attention. Nothing too much, or he'd realize she was staling. She started to fan the cards again, convinced that the gel had enough time to act.

“What card was it?”

Tony grinned, entertained. “Queen of Hearts.”

Soph extended the cards, the Queen of Hearts proudly displayed in the middle.

“Are you sure?”

Tony looked quickly down at his card where the Joker was now displayed with a smirk.

Wade was laughing so hard, he missed the armchair, landed on the floor, and got promptly swallowed by yet another panel.

*

Soph heard a dull thud. She frowned. It wasn’t the usual noises of the Raft at night. She got up, took her hair tie with her, wedged herself into the corner, keeping to the shadows, and waited. While she waited, she quickly braided her hair to keep it out of the way.

“Ms. Kavanagh don’t be frightened,” Rogers said as he approached the cell door. “We’ve come to release you.”

What the hell was Rogers thinking?

 “It’s the Man,” Soph spoke up. “And please don’t touch the door.”

“It’s okay.” Rogers was speaking to her as if she was a small child, or better yet a dumb person who could not understand why he was there. He kept walking.

“Don’t touch!” Soph's voice sharpened, her Irish accent more evident than usual.

Rogers smiled, a sweet wholesome smile. Soph wished he'd feel it if she tried to punch it off his face. “Ma’am, the electricity is off. I'll be okay.”

“It’s not ma'am, it’s—the—man,” Soph said, jaw clenched. “Hands off!”

“Please, relax, I'm not here to hurt you,” Rogers pleaded. He tried the smile again, and Soph spitefully glared it off. “You remind me of a friend.”

The opportunity to buy some time was a lot more useful than her desire to not hear his voice. So chit-chat she'll do. “Oh?” Not maximum effort, like Wade would say, but it should serve its purpose.

“Yes.” Rogers was calm again, and his smile again started crawling in, the fucker. But then, he thought of something, and if fell right off. As it should be.

But there was something there, something Soph decided to pounce on. “Why do I remind you of him?”

“Ah… no reason,” Rogers said, with a small, embarrassed laugh.

Soph smiled. It wasn’t a nice one. “Because I have an ego I remind you of Tony Stark?”

Rogers frowned, taken by surprise and looking lost.

“Get out,” Soph snapped.

“You organized a secret railroad for meta-humans since they began hunting them,” Rogers reminded her as if she forgot. “The Secret Avengers are getting you out. We are very thankful, and you won’t come to harm.” 

“Not big on personal responsibility, are you?” Soph snorted. “You acted like a maniac again, _and again_ , enough to scare the people out of their damn minds. Did no one tell you? Scared people are easily manipulated. Obligatory registration of all super-humans started with you,” she whispered, mindful of prying ears, but still confident that it would get heard since Tony had told her about Rogers abilities. Then she said louder, bordering on yelling, “I’m not going anywhere with you. Leave!”

“The Man, please.” Rogers was close to begging, kicked dog expression, and Soph felt an overwhelming need to rip his tongue out, throw it down, and tap dance on it.

“No!” Soph glared, trying her best to melt his brain with her mind. “And once they scrunch up some guards, and the control is reestablished, I’m going to be in a world of trouble. Because of _you_!” she growled. That should wake a few people.

Rogers seemed taken aback. Good. Then his chin jutted forward. _His chin jutted forward._ She really, really wanted to kick it back in, because she was feeling a close approaching bout of Rogers’ famous stubbornness. “You will be okay if you just come with us.”

“Or what?”

“Ma’a—the Man, we are trying to save you!”

Soph couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Over my dead body?”

“No!” Rogers denied, pretty vehemently for a guy who didn’t seem interested in what she wanted. “Of course not!”

Soph rolled her eyes. “Then leave!”

“You can’t—”

“Yes, I can. And I am. What you’re offering is the life of a fugitive, one that colludes with violent criminals! You've got a shot on sight order on you, Rogers! That’s jumping into the fire, when the frying pan is not even decided yet,” Soph declared fervently. She continued softly, “Rogers, what I’m accused of stopped being your business when you ran from it. You don’t know the players anymore. Stop and leave.”

Rogers sighed, annoyed. Then he began using his brain, because he studied her _in silence._ “You think you are going to get away. How?”

Soph leaned back against the wall, and smirked. “Trust.”

*

“We meet again,” Soph said neutrally.

“The Man?!” Rogers looked adorable dumbfounded.

“Follow me,” Soph ordered. “Through the wall.”

Rogers sighed. “At the trial they made a big deal on you not having any powers. Or is this not you?” He passed through. “Congratulations on the ‘not guilty’ verdict.”

“Thank you, and it is my doing,” Soph replied. They reached the hallway with the mirrors, and started going through it. “I’m an illusionist. Pulling a rabbit out of a hat, cutting up people with a saw… Ring any bells? No actual magic for the government to track.”

Rogers seemed surprised, but that didn’t stop him from saying, “I thought you were a mercenary.”

“And I thought you were an artist,” Soph snapped. Her voice sounded menacing with the room acoustics. “Drawing, was it? And if that’s all you're useful for, I'm sorry to tell you that there aren’t going to be any French girls where you’re going.” At least if Loki didn’t get any bright ideas.

“But Tony is,” Rogers said, ignoring the jab. “Since when do you work with the man that helped put you away?”

Soph smirked. “Since the beginning.”

She dropped a tiny smoke bomb, and pushed a panel on the wall that made the mirrors fall away. To Rogers it would look as if the room just appeared. He spun twice and fell into a defensive position, ready to punch out the air. Ah, the classics. Loki applauded, Thor chuckled, Tony smiled fondly, Wade made a quip, and Peter was telling her how awesome she was. Soph bowed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! If you want to comment (or just talk to me) you can do it here or on my [tumblr](http://e-alexandrescu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
